Loving You from Afar
by Q.victoria
Summary: Orphaned at birth and raised as a servant in the halls of Rivendell, Anwanárë seems destined to walk her life alone. Will a secret love change all that? Ch. 5 up R&R!
1. Birth of an Angel

Disclaimer: I bow down to Tolkien and his genius, but Anwanárë is mine.  
  
Loving You from Afar  
  
By crazeebabee  
  
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The woodcutter was working deep in the woods, splitting log after log to sell in the village nearby. A light rain had just started to come down, gently settling on the leaves and the grassy woodland floor. The man paused to wipe the sweat from his brow when he heard a distressed thrashing in the underbrush. Leaving his ax and drawing the dagger at his belt, he carefully advanced towards the sound.  
  
Before he could get to the edge of the clearing, a woman appeared from the foliage. Her belly swollen with child, she staggered forward towards the man, breathing hard, her dark eyes desperate and clouded with pain. Her clothes were once of the highest quality and made with the greatest skill, but now they were stained and torn, barely hanging on the woman's bony shoulders. The woodcutter dropped his dagger and strode swiftly forward, just in time to catch the woman as she fainted.  
  
Gently lowering the woman onto some soft leaves, the woodcutter felt her extended belly. He felt the faint contractions of childbirth. With a soft curse, the man gathered the woman in his arms once again. Standing, he strode quickly in the direction of the village.  
  
As he approached the village, the women looked up from their work. Anxiously leaving their doorways, the women gathered around the worried woodcutter, who continued to stride into the heart of the village. He stopped before the hut of the old Wise Woman.  
  
"What is it, Iomann?" The Wise Woman appeared to be extremely old, shrunken and with many wrinkles. However, her voice was still clear and sharp. Her keen blue eyes examined the unconscious woman.  
  
"She is in labor, Wise One," the woodcutter said gruffly.  
  
"I can see that," snapped the Wise Woman.  
  
Unperturbed, the woodcutter added, "You must help her."  
  
"Iomann." Exasperatedly, the Wise Woman pushed away the woman's blond hair to reveal pointed ears. "She is an elf."  
  
One of the village women spoke up. "She still deserves your help, Wise One."  
  
Another one joined in, "Please, Wise One, you must save her baby at the least."  
  
Choruses of "Yes!" and "Please!" came from the other women. Finally, the Wise Woman threw up her hands in defeat.  
  
"Ya, ya. Fine, I will see what I can do." The women broke into smiles. "But we must move quickly, the mother is fading fast and there is not much time to save the babe."  
  
Immediately, the women scurried away to begin boiling water and construct a makeshift bed. Iomann gently laid the still unconscious elf on the bed. In all of the commotion, none noticed the Wise Woman give a quick but fervent prayer to the overcast skies.  
  
"Please, Valar, hear my prayer on behalf of one of your own. Spare the life of the child; it deserves a chance." Turning to face her hut, the Wise Woman rolled her sleeves up and furrowed her brow. She sighed, "This will be a long night," before charging in to direct the women.  
  
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The rain poured down in earnest now. Relentlessly, it pounded on the roof of the small hut. Inside, the fire was roaring and women were scrambling about with clean sheets and hot water. The Wise Woman, sweat matting her brow, was hunched over the belly of the newly conscious elf.  
  
Wide green eyes glazed over with pain, the elf protectively held her belly. The contractions were becoming less frequent and weaker.  
  
"What is your name?" the Wise Woman asked her gently while monitoring the contractions.  
  
"Oirasírë. It means 'eternal river.'" Her voice was soft and lilting, beautiful and smooth even after so much suffering.  
  
"Oirasírë, can I be honest with you?" When she nodded, the Wise Woman went on. "I don't think you're going to make it through the birth." Stunned, the elf gazed blankly at the pillow, trying to absorb the information. "You are far too thin and you have lost much of your strength. Added to that, you have been in labor for too long. The contractions are coming less frequently."  
  
Finally, Oirasírë's eyes focused. Setting her mouth bravely, she looked up into the Wise Woman's eyes. Her determined green eyes shone in the firelight. "You must save the baby."  
  
"But if I pull it from the womb, you will surely perish."  
  
"But if you do not, both of us will die. My death does not matter. I would gladly give my life for that of my child's."  
  
"If that is your wish . . ."  
  
"It is."  
  
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Hours later . . .  
  
The Wise Woman triumphantly pulled the squalling babe up. Slapping it smartly on the bottom, she then cut the cord quickly and wrapped the babe in warm cloths. Gently, she laid the babe on the bed next to the mother. Oirasírë was perspiring heavily and gasping with pain, but she looked upon her child with loving eyes.  
  
"'Tis a girl, my lady," exclaimed one of the village women.  
  
Oirasírë smiled radiantly. Gathering the child in her arms, she carefully examined it from head to toe, marveling at each perfect feature. All this time, the Wise Woman was desperately trying to staunch the blood flow.  
  
Shedding silent tears of joy and wonderment, Oirasírë traced her daughter's delicate, elven ears with a trembling fingertip. Then she placed a soft kiss on the child's black hair. The babe yawned and opened her eyes, revealing large amber-colored orbs. She smiled and grasped her mother's finger in a strong grip. Unfortunately, Oirasírë's laugh turned quickly into a fierce, wracking cough.  
  
The Wise Woman quickly hurried to her side to feel her forehead. "By the Valar, you're burning up!" Oirasírë looked up with knowing eyes.  
  
"Her name is Anwanárë," she whispered. "It means 'true flame.'" Another cough took over her, leaving her eyes fainter and her breath shallower. Desperately, she tried to pass the sleeping babe to the Wise Woman. "Promise me you will care for her as your own."  
  
The Wise Woman blindly shook her head. "I cannot take your place. You must hold on, you must live."  
  
The elf smiled sadly. "It was not meant to be. Do not worry for me, I will pass to a better place." Her next words were cut off by yet another cough, by far the worst. The Wise Woman took the babe from the suffering mother lest either should be hurt.  
  
"You must promise me. Please, oh please," Oirasírë managed to gasp out. The Wise Woman looked down on the peacefully sleeping child.  
  
"I promise." Content, Oirasírë gave her daughter one last kiss before lying back and closing her eyes. Her chest rose and fell erratically, the only indication of life. Soon even that ceased to move.  
  
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Review, pretty please! 


	2. Decisions

Disclaimer: Anwanárë is mine!!! But LotR belongs to Tolkien only.  
  
Author's Note: There is a correction from the last chapter. Anwanárë does not mean "lost flame," as was first posted, but actually means "true flame." The correction has already been made to the first chapter.  
  
Loving You from Afar  
  
By crazeebabee  
  
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Bubbly laughter heralded the arrival of the dark-haired child. Giggling in delight, she raced after the village dog, who playfully dodged out of her grasp. The child's clothes were mud-streaked and there were twigs in her hair, but her sunny face brought smiles to the village men and women working outside.  
  
With a big lunge, the child finally grasped the dog's rope collar. She hugged his wriggling body while he tried valiantly to lick her face. Finally, he succeeded in knocking the girl onto her bottom. Free from her grasp, he rambled over to the nearby shade and flopped down, panting.  
  
Instead of crying, like any other 7 year old would, the girl calmly stood up and brushed her skirt off. The motion of tucking a loose curl behind her ear revealed delicately pointed elven ears. The small she-elf smiled before bursting out into a happy folksong. Her beautiful voice was tinged with a foreign, mythical air, creating an achingly sweet melody. She skipped past the working women to the fields and pastures where the men were.  
  
"Iomann! Uncle Iomann!" she cried as she skipped joyously up to one of the men working in the field. The man paused in his hoeing to wipe the sweat from his brow. He leaned on the tool and smiled down on the girl.  
  
"Well hello there, my little mouse. How are you doing today?"  
  
The child beamed up at him. "Just wonderful, Uncle Iomann! I chased Nólaindo around and we had a great time!"  
  
The man frowned in confusion. "Who is this Nólaindo?"  
  
"Oh, that's what I call the village dog. It's much more respectful than plain old 'Dog,' don't you think, Uncle Iomann? And, he seems to like the name!"  
  
Iomann smiled affectionately down on the small dark head. Only Anwanárë would insist on naming someone because it is more respectful. The child was only seven, but sometimes seemed to possess the soul of an older, wiser being.  
  
"When I grow up, I'm going to live in a huge palace with thousands of dogs to chase around!"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you will, my dear. I'm sure you will." Then again, she really was only seven. "Does this name, Nólaindo, mean anything?" Iomann teased.  
  
"Yes, it means 'wise heart.'"  
  
Surprised, Iomann asked, "How do you know this, Anwanárë?"  
  
The small girl just shrugged and smiled. "I just know, deep down inside." There was a lengthy pause as Iomann took the time to mull this over. Finally, too impatient to wait any longer, Anwanárë grabbed Iomann's hand. "Come on, Uncle, it's almost dinnertime!"  
  
Iomann looked at the darkening sky in surprise, as if noticing the lengthening shadows for the first time. "So it is, my little mouse. So it is." Still thinking over the conversation, he allowed the girl to pull him towards the village.  
  
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"Are you sure you were not mistaken, Iomann? Anwanárë is, after all, only a child. And with no knowledge of her true heritage! Such a thing just doesn't seem possible."  
  
"I truly remember, Wise One! The name just rolled off her tongue, as if she had been speaking elvish all her life. I tried saying it, Nólaindo, but it just doesn't come out the same."  
  
"Well, she is elvish, after all. Perhaps she was born with the knowledge."  
  
Iomann looked down on the girl sleeping peacefully in his arms. Having eaten dinner a long while ago, Anwanárë had dozed off to the sound of the soft conversation. Looking up, he gazed into the Wise Woman's eyes.  
  
She anticipated his next comment. He blurted out quickly, "It is not only the knowledge of elvish that sets her apart. She sings beautifully and her voice is unlike any mortal's. Also, she has a strange presence about her. Even the trees and animals can sense it. Did you know that the village dog will not let anyone touch him, except Anwanárë?"  
  
The Wise Woman turned and walked slowly to the door. She leaned on the doorframe to look out into the forest. Iomann went on, behind her, "And Old Mithroden, he has been suffering from his rheumatism ever since I was a babe in the cradle! Anwanárë visits him every day to talk, and after her visits he claims that the pain is gone!"  
  
The Wise Woman suddenly turned to face Iomann. The blue eyes that were normally vivid and alive were now cloudy with weariness and pain. "And what would you have me do, Iomann? It is clear that Anwanárë is different, but I made a promise to her mother. I promised to care for the babe as my own."  
  
"And you have done a fine job of it. But you are right - she is different. That is why she cannot stay here all her life." Her eyes dropped to the child in his lap. They returned to lock with his, conveying the depth of her pain. "You knew this moment was to come, Wise One. You knew that you had to let her go."  
  
"But why does it have to come so early? She is so young. . . She has become my world, Iomann. When she leaves, what shall I do? How shall I face a life without my little one?"  
  
Iomann took her gnarled, old hand and gave it a compassionate squeeze. "We will all miss her, Wise One. She has become a part of all our lives. But she must go now, to learn the way of her ancestors. She cannot stay here, where our mortality will suffocate her budding development as an elf. Be brave, Wise One, you will still have us."  
  
The Wise Woman nodded with a bittersweet smile. "I will contact the elves. They will take her in and raise her as one of their own." She bent to caress the sleeping child's cheek. "But oh, I will miss her so. Anwa, my little Anwanárë."  
  
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To all my reviewers, thank you so much for your generous reviews! I really appreciate your taking the time to comment on my work! Keep up the reading and writing!  
  
Don't forget:  
  
Review, pretty please! 


	3. Letting Go

Disclaimer: This sad writer can only claim ownership over Anwanárë and other characters not mentioned in Tolkien's fabulous LotR.  
  
Author's Note: In response to a review, I feel the need to clear any misunderstandings. No, Anwanárë is not a special kind of elf. Her behavior as a young child only reinforces her true bloodlines and her instincts as an elf-child. Even though she did not grow up in an elven household, she instinctively knows the elvish tongue and possesses the elvish abilities, which is the reason why the village must give her up to the elves.  
  
Loving You from Afar  
  
By crazeebabee  
  
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The day started like any other. The sun rose to shine peacefully on the small village, while a cool wind swept down from the mountains looming to the north. The adults broke their fast before performing morning chores. Soon, the men were heading off to the fields once more. Some women dragged their children to the nearby stream to wash the laundry, while others chose to sit at the looms to weave fabric. The soft flow of women-chatter was soon laced with the high-pitched squeals of rowdy children, energized by a good night's sleep.  
  
One child, however, did not join in the daily romps today. Dark head bent to look at the ground, she glumly kicked at pebbles while shuffling her feet in front of the Wise Woman's hut. The women would glance up at their work now and then, to look with concern upon the young child. Gone were the sunny smiles and lilting melodies that usually accompanied the young elf. Today, she even ignored the village dog. He followed at her heels, occasionally whimpering and bumping her legs, trying to entice her to play.  
  
After a particularly rough nudge, the girl seemed to come out of her quiet reverie. She frowned at the dog, as if noticing him for the first time. She roughly shoved him away, admonishing him sharply, "Not today, Nóla." The dog gazed forlornly into the girl's stormy face before walking sadly away to disappear in a nearby hut. Without another thought, the girl resumed her shuffling.  
  
"Anwa! Anwanárë, come here." With a sigh, the girl turned and walked into the Wise Woman's hut.  
  
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The Wise Woman was standing at her table in the center of the hut, preparing various herbs to use as medicinal remedies. She paused to look up as Anwanárë shuffled through the door and plopped onto a cushion lying on the floor. Continuing to tie bunches of herbs to dry, the Wise Woman kept an eye on the girl as she spoke.  
  
"Anwanárë, I know you are upset, dear, but that is hardly a reason to treat Nóla harshly. He didn't do any harm to you; he simply wants to play. Isn't that right?"  
  
Anwanárë answered glumly, "I suppose."  
  
"Anwa, you must learn to control your emotions. Just because you are feeling bad, it doesn't mean that you can treat others with less respect. Nólaindo was just trying to be friendly."  
  
"I know, Wise One. I will apologize to him later," she said dejectedly.  
  
Shaking her head, the Wise Woman commented, "One of these days, Anwa, you are going to say something or do something that cannot be smoothed over with an apology. That is why you must learn to rein in your temper and hold your tongue."  
  
When Anwanárë didn't answer and simply sat with a hand idly tracing the dirt on the floor, the Wise Woman decided to take the conversation further. Wiping her hands on her apron, the old woman walked around the table to sit with the girl. Kneeling before Anwanárë and taking her small hands in her own, the Wise Woman asked, "What is wrong, my dear?"  
  
The girl raised troubled eyes to meet the old woman's. "Why must I go, Wise One? Don't you want me anymore?"  
  
The Wise Woman squeezed the young girl's hands earnestly. She was quick to say, "Oh, sweet, of course I still want you! I will always want you! And you will always have a home here. But that is beside the point. You must go because you were born an elf, and you should be raised as one also. Lord Elrond has generously agreed to accept you into his home - -"  
  
The child broke in with a distraught wail, "But I don't want to be raised like an elf! They're tall and skinny and strange. Why can't I stay here with you and grow up like an ordinary human girl?"  
  
The Wise Woman gave Anwanárë a reproving look. "For shame, Anwa!" she said harshly. "Why on Middle Earth would you get the impression that elves are strange?"  
  
Embarrassed, Anwanárë looked at the ground as she confessed, "It is what I overhear the other village children say. They think I am a strange monster- freak."  
  
The Wise Woman's eyes softened. Using a finger, she tilted Anwanárë's chin so that her amber eyes met the Wise Woman's ice blue ones. "Anwa, my dear, you shouldn't listen to those children. They are just jealous that they aren't as special as you are. Look at you, with your beautiful pointy ears. . ." The Wise Woman paused to trace Anwanárë's delicate ears with a trembling finger. Her blue eyes grew misty with unshed tears, as she sadly examined her small charge. Anwanárë watched with wide eyes, never having seen the Wise Woman cry before.  
  
With a watery laugh, the Wise Woman added, "And look how you've grown! My, I still remember how you were as a babe, so small but so feisty." Clearing her throat, the Wise Woman hastily wiped her eyes before going on. "Certainly you are not strange. You're mother was the most beautiful elf - so fair, so fragile, and yet so brave. That is why I want you to go live with Lord Elrond. So you can grow up to be just like her. I know that is what she would have wanted for you." She smiled bravely at Anwanárë. "You must promise me that you will be good and try your best to become a fine elven lady. Do you understand, Anwa? You must give me your word that you will try to become the best elf in all of Middle Earth."  
  
With a trembling lip, Anwanárë nodded. She said, haltingly, "Y-y-yes, I pro-promise."  
  
The Wise Woman smiled fondly at the girl. "That's my girl. I know you will do just fine."  
  
With a stifled sob, the little girl hurled herself into the old woman's arms. "I will miss you so, Wise One," she cried.  
  
The Wise Woman cradled the girl in her arms, rocking slowly back and forth. She murmured into the girl's dark curls, "I know, I know. Shhh, everything will be all right, Anwa. You'll see. Everything will be all right." Soon, exhausted from crying, the girl drifted off into a fitful slumber in the Wise Woman's arms.  
  
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Review, pretty please! 


	4. Meeting Destiny

Disclaimer: Sadly, I admit that I am not a genius like Tolkien. His wonderful imagination and creation of LotR has inspired me to come up with this humble story.  
  
Author's Note: Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews! I am so glad that you are enjoying my story so far! But don't worry, there is MUCH more to come!  
  
Loving You from Afar  
  
By crazeebabee  
  
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That afternoon, as the sun set over the forest, casting everything in a blazing orange hue, the whole village had gathered on the hill near the village to see Anwanárë off. The cool wind swirled and snapped at the vulnerable humans, small as ants when standing between the massive mountains and trees. Anwanárë stood with the Wise Woman and Iomann at the front of the crowd, all of them looking to the east and the plains. The thunder of hooves signaled the arrival of the elves long before they came into mortal sight.  
  
Magnificent in their blue and white garments, sitting astride beautiful white horses, the elves seemed aloof and untouchable to the awed villagers. As the captain of the group dismounted and approached, Anwanárë tightened her arms around the Wise Woman's waist and hid her face in the fabric of the dress.  
  
"Are you the Wise Woman of the Village of Rhinefehld?" the captain said in an imperial voice.  
  
"That I am," the Wise Woman responded, lifting her chin bravely.  
  
"And are you Iomann the Woodcutter of the Village of Rhinefehld?" the captain asked, turning to the bearded man next to the Wise Woman.  
  
"That I am."  
  
"Then I suppose this little elfling here is Anwanárë, correct? Come here, girl, do not hide in the old woman's skirts like an elf-babe. I do not bite, I assure you."  
  
Feeling insulted by the captain's comment, Anwanárë untangled herself from the Wise Woman's skirts and stood before the captain. She set her chin bravely, unconsciously imitating her long deceased mother with a spitfire of defiance in her amber eyes.  
  
The captain took his time looking over the little elf. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he nodded before turning back to his horse and remounting. "Come, it is getting late and we must depart if we are to reach Rivendell before daybreak."  
  
Anwanárë turned and ran to the Wise Woman and Iomann, embracing them for the last time.  
  
"Be a good girl, er, elf," Iomann said gruffly over his emotions. He patted her affectionately on her head before joining the crowd of the other villagers.  
  
"Remember your promise, my dear," the Wise Woman told Anwanárë with a trembling voice. "Once you are the best elf in all of Middle Earth, you can come back and visit us! Won't that be wonderful, dear?" She smiled down on the child with a mixture of love and sadness. "Remember to control your temper and think before you speak."  
  
Sensing that the Wise Woman needed her to be strong, Anwanárë answered, "I will, Wise One." She leaned back from their hug to examine the Wise Woman's face, as if committing to memory each and every line and detail. "I love you," she whispered before turning to walk to the captain's horse.  
  
Turning around to wave to all of the villagers, Anwanárë noticed another well-wisher come to say goodbye. She walked over to the dog and knelt to give him a hug. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier, Nólaindo. Forgive me, my friend, you did not deserve my anger." She stood and, with a last pat on his head, said, "Farewell."  
  
Walking back over to the captain, he lifted her to sit on the saddle in front of him. She waved to the villagers as the elves all turned their horses and galloped off into the sunset. With one last look at the people and the village behind them, Anwanárë turned to face forward, ready to embrace her new future.  
  
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After dinner that night, the Wise Woman and Iomann sat alone in the hut before the fire. The room was peaceful, the silence broken only by the cracking of a log or the creak of the Wise Woman's rocking chair. Iomann finally broke the somber mood by asking, "Wise One, have you seen Nóla anywhere?"  
  
Turning from her stare into the fire to look at Iomann, the Wise Woman replied with a frown, "No, the last time I saw him was on the hill when we were saying goodbye to. . ." She broke off with a choked whisper, unable to bring up the painful occasion.  
  
Iomann continued to stare into the fire, smoking his pipe with a perplexed look. "Hmm. . . that is strange. I have been looking for him everywhere ever since Anwa left. No one seems to know where he has gone." Turning from the fire, he gave the Wise Woman a questioning look. "You don't suppose. . ." He let the unfinished sentence hang in the air for a few seconds before turning back to the fire. "No. What a silly thought, it couldn't possibly be true. No. . ." he trailed off while resuming his smoking and staring into the fire.  
  
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After traveling for several hours, the elven party was forced to stop to rest the horses. As soon as the elves dismounted and tended to their horses, they fell upon the easy ritual of setting up camp. Some elves broke off in search of firewood while others took out cooking utensils and provisions to prepare the evening fare.  
  
Along the ride from the village, Anwanárë had drifted in and out of a fitful sleep. Simultaneously sad about leaving her childhood home and excited about meeting more of her kind, her emotions were understandably in turmoil.  
  
Once the captain's horse had stopped, Anwanárë had quickly scrambled down in a need to relieve herself. By the time she had taken care of her business behind a nearby grove of trees, the campfire was already roaring and the warm smell of baking lamnas bread floated in the air.  
  
Just as Anwanárë was about the leave the grove of trees to warm herself by the fire, her elven ears picked up a soft whimpering coming from the trees. Curious, she turned and followed her ears to a large bush. She sank down on her knees and peered under the bush, searching for the source of the pitiful whining. She was awarded with a warm, sloppy kiss on the face.  
  
Squealing with surprise, she reeled back and fell onto her bottom. A brown form slid out from underneath the bush and happily padded over to the elf, proceeding to wash her face with its warm tongue.  
  
Finally recognizing the creature, she exclaimed, "Nólaindo! What on Middle Earth are you doing here? You scamp!" Laughing at his enthusiastic ministrations, she picked herself up and brushed off her skirt. Resting her fingers on the nape of the dog's neck, she guided him from the grove of trees towards the campfire.  
  
The captain looked up as Anwanárë shyly walked up to stand in front of him, a dog by her side. His icy blue eyes noted the way her right hand clutched the dog's hair and her left hand remained buried in the folds of her skirt. No doubt it was clutching at the fabric as well. Concluding that the girl must be nervous and slightly intimidated by him, the captain strove to relax his cold, blank expression.  
  
"Is there something you needed, Anwanárë?"  
  
Keeping her eyes glued to the ground, the elf nervously queried, "I was wondering, since Nólaindo followed us from the village, if I could keep him as a pet and bring him to Rivendell."  
  
When the captain didn't answer right away, Anwanárë raised her eyes to glance at his face. He was stroking his chin as if thinking over the request carefully. Finally, he locked his eyes with hers and nodded.  
  
"I suppose there could be no harm in keeping a pet." Anwanárë broke into a huge smile, the sheer brilliance of it startling the elven captain. The image of an older Anwanárë flashed through the captain's head as well. Although Anwanárë had a rather homely and plain face, compared to the elvish race in general, her smile lit up her eyes and transformed her face into a wondrous thing to behold. That special smile combined with her lively spirit was sure to attract many an elven male in the future. However, the captain shook his head to clear it of these thoughts, trying to keep a stern grasp on the situation. He added gruffly, "But if he gets in the way and creates trouble, I cannot be held responsible."  
  
Anwanárë nodded enthusiastically, piping up in her clear voice, "I understand, sir. I will be sure to keep him out of trouble. Diola lle!" Thank you! Again, the captain was surprised, this time by Anwanárë's spontaneous slip into the elven tongue. Having been told that the girl was not raised with an elvish background, the captain had not been expecting her to spout elvish words. Nevertheless, he shook it off as the ability to learn fast.  
  
Oblivious to the captain's reflective thoughts, Anwanárë sat next to the campfire with a happy Nólaindo by her side, chewing her lamnas bread contentedly. After a little more rest, the party decided to remount and resume their journey towards Rivendell.  
  
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Just as the sun peeked over the mountains to brighten up a new day, the elven party turned the last bend in their path to Rivendell. From her perch in front of the captain, Anwanárë gasped with pleasure as the rising sun's rays hit the palace, turning it into a magnificent wonderland of falling water and lush greens. The palace itself glinted with a pearly shine as the sun's light caressed its smooth, flowing lines.  
  
Gazing at her new home, Anwanárë's honey eyes were wide with amazement and awe. Unconcerned with the little elf's emotions, the horses continued their easy pace and were soon trotting through the palace gates.  
  
The captain dismounted and turned back to lift Anwanárë off of the horse. She stood in the middle of the courtyard, surveying the beautiful palace with Nólaindo at her side while the elves went off to tend to their horses. With a gentle lick of her hand, Nólaindo reminded Anwanárë of his presence. Turning to look down on him with a smile, Anwanárë whispered, "I'm glad you're here with me, Nóla. I know we can get through this together."  
  
A soft footstep drew her attention back up to notice the king appearing in the doorway of the palace. As he calmly and gracefully strode down the steps towards her, Anwanárë straightened her shoulders and bravely lifted her chin, ready to meet her destiny.  
  
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Review, pretty please! 


	5. A New Challenge

Author's Note: I am sincerely sorry for not updating in such a long time, I know many of you must be exasperated with me. Where we last left off, I had reached a turning point in this story and it seems that a wall of writer's block came out of nowhere to hit me smack in the face. Thankfully, I seem to have overcome this painful obstacle and am now ready to install the next chapter for you all to read.  
  
Note to the Story: As I have recently realized, my references to Anwanárë's age are somewhat out of line with Tolkien's profile of elves. When I say Anwa is "7 years old" I really mean that she looks 7, but could quite possibly be older as elves are immortal. So from this point forward, any references to age are just to help you all picture Anwa in your minds. :0)  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas or LotR, but the graceful figure of Anwanárë is my own creation. No copying! :0) Enjoy the story.  
  
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"Anwa! Anwa! Come quick!" A tall elven girl with long blonde hair and light blue eyes came skidding to halt in the doorway to the room. She was dressed in a rough garment that indicated her status as a servant, but her natural beauty and good-nature shone through the dowdy outfit. Her abrupt stop and anxious calls drew the attention of the elf in the room, who raised her eyes from where she was washing the floor of the room.  
  
Brushing back a stray curl of black hair, Anwanárë raised amber-colored eyes to meet her friend's blue ones. "What is it, Eámanë?" she asked calmly. Nólaindo observed the scene with sleepy eyes from his position on the floor against the wall.  
  
"Prince Legolas of Mirkwood has just arrived with his wife and two children!" Eámanë exclaimed excitedly.  
  
"Well, that is hardly any reason for me to rush outside. I still need to finish two more rooms and help the stable boy with the horses before dinner." Anwanárë rose slowly from her kneeling position and picked up the bucket of dirty water.  
  
"No, no, you don't understand, Anwa! The prince's youngest son is ill, and Lord Elrond has requested your assistance to heal him." At her friend's comment, Anwa's head snapped up quickly and her amber eyes lost their fatigue.  
  
"Why cannot the palace healer handle the boy?" Anwa asked carefully.  
  
"He is busy with one of the council elders who was struck by a poisoned arrow. Lord Elrond would have taken care of the boy himself, but he is drained from healing those elves that were on their way to the harbor last night. The palace healer especially recommended you to Lord Elrond as a healer for the prince's son." Anwa's bucket dropped as she picked up her skirts instead.  
  
"Aiya! What are we standing her for then? Quickly, take me to the boy!" As the girls rushed out the door, Nóla stood to follow them. Remembering him in a flash, Anwa turned around and said, "Nóla, I can't take you with me. Amin hiraetha, mellonamin. Please wait for me at the stables." With that, she turned and took off at a dead run after her blonde friend.  
  
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Prince Legolas leapt off his horse as soon as he entered the palace walls of Rivendell. He turned to his entourage of soldiers and gently lifted his son from the makeshift litter they had made. Pressing a gentle kiss to the boy's blonde head, he turned to rush into the palace. He was halfway up the stairs when the doors burst open and Lord Elrond strode out to meet him.  
  
"My lord, I beg you, please help my son!" Legolas whispered fervently to Lord Elrond as they rushed through the front hall.  
  
"I am sorry, my son, but I have no more energy after last night's healing. The palace healer is likewise unavailable as he is helping a council elder. But he did recommend someone to help your son." Lord Elrond was about to direct Legolas into a room when Eámanë and Anwanárë came running around the corner. Eámanë skidded to a stop and dropped a quick curtsy to the elven lords, but Anwanárë rushed to Legolas' side immediately.  
  
"Valar help us." Anwanárë muttered a quick prayer as she checked the boy's pulse and breathing. Legolas watched her ministrations with surprise and then disbelief. He turned stormy blue eyes towards Lord Elrond.  
  
"Elrond, you cannot be serious! She is younger than I am! She cannot possibly handle this sort of task!"  
  
"Legolas, uuma dela. She has trained with the healers for a few years, and she certainly has enough talent," Elrond responded in a soothing tone.  
  
Anwanárë met Legolas's troubled blue eyes with a steady, confidant gaze. "I assure you, Prince Legolas, your son will be fine. Now, my lord prince, do you have any idea as to what could have caused this?"  
  
"It was not any enemy or foreign danger, if that's what you are thinking!" Legolas demanded angrily.  
  
"My lord, calm down. I was not questioning your ability as a father, I was merely wondering what happened to your son," Anwanárë responded patiently. Legolas closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.  
  
"My apologies. I am just worried for my son, that is all."  
  
"It's perfectly understandable. Now, can you tell me what happened?"  
  
"It was the second day of our journey, and I was riding with my boys on either side, both atop of their ponies. Suddenly Valandil cried out and fainted. Luckily I was able to catch him before he fell, but we had to stop and fashion a makeshift litter for him. I sent a messenger ahead to request assistance, and we resumed our ride."  
  
Anwanárë listened carefully, and when Legolas finished she nodded slowly. Then she closed her eyes and raised both hands above the boy's body. A serene look overcame her face and the air beneath her palms began to glow. She slowly moved them in the air above the boy's head, all the way to his toes, scanning for the source of his ailment. Her hands paused above the boy's right thigh, and remained there for a few seconds. The glow receded and she opened her eyes. Reaching for the boy's trousers, she tore at a small hole on the outside of his thigh. She revealed a 5-inch scar along the boy's thigh.  
  
"Legolas, how long has he had this scar?" Anwanárë asked in a low and urgent voice. In her concern, she had dropped all levels of address. Legolas, surprised by her question, answered with an uncertain waver in his voice.  
  
"He was injured there by an orc arrow when he was seven. That would mean a year and a half ago." Anwa leaned closer to examine the scar, and as she lifted a glowing finger to touch it, the air sizzled. With a hiss, she withdrew her finger as if burned. Legolas watched, confused. "I don't understand. What does his scar have to do with anything?"  
  
"My lord, this scar has never healed properly. The poison was not fully drained, and so it has lain dormant in Valandil's body, only resurfacing now that it has had a time to multiply in the boy's system."  
  
Legolas sucked in a breath at the sudden news. "What must you do to heal him?" he asked in a hesitant voice.  
  
"I will have to cleanse his blood internally and sweat out the resulting fever." Anwanárë began listing various ingredients and materials she would need to herself. Suddenly, she looked up and asked, "Lord Elrond, what room may we use for the prince's son?"  
  
Elrond motioned for some of his attendants to take the boy from Legolas's arms. They whisked him away down the hall with Anwanárë walking alongside, holding a hand over the boy's heart. Legolas was left standing silently with Elrond and Eámanë, watching anxiously as his son was taken around the corner and out of sight.  
  
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Aiya! = Oh!  
  
Amin hiraetha, mellonamin. = I'm sorry, my friend.  
  
Uuma dela. = Don't worry.  
  
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Review, pretty please! 


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